


catch the falling sky with me

by khrysallis



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - War, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mental Health Issues, Physical Disability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 03:04:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10427727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khrysallis/pseuds/khrysallis
Summary: Jongin was the one who put Sehun together again when he fell apart once. Sehun thinks it's only natural for Jongin to be the one who breaks him all over again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNINGS:** warring situations, permanent physical disability, mentions of mental disorders, suicidal thoughts, some violence, MAJOR character death.
> 
>  
> 
>  **a/n:** i'm back after taking a long hiatus from writing (more like hindered by writer's block, but oh well)! this is set in the same universe as [living on borrowed time](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6812830), if you remember the side!sekai i had included in the fic. if you don't, well don't worry, it's not necessary for you to read the other fic to understand this. enjoy!

_I drew the curtains and looked out the window all day  
in case you who left me would come back_

__

 

_Beast – When I.._

  
  
  
  
  
A deep inhale clears Jongin's airways of the pungent smell of antiseptics which have been invading his senses over most of the past three months, and suddenly the humid summer air doesn't feel so unwelcomed as it used to be.  
  
A sigh escapes his lips as he walks out of the main entrance of the hospital, however, hands full of someone else's belongings, packed away in several canvas bags. It's not much of an indication of how long they've been staying at the hospital, though to be fair there's no need for personal clothes in the confines of the ward, anyway. Ahead of him, that _someone else_ is hobbling awkwardly across the road towards the parking lot, the metallic sound of crutches digging into asphalt ringing in the air.  
  
Two months ago, Jongin never would have thought he'd be able to witness this scene, of that man getting out of bed and ambulating around on a pair of crutches. He was involved in an extremely debilitating accident after all; it was a miracle that he'd managed to get out of his comatose state after a month's time to begin with. Then the doctors had ruled him as unfit to move around without using a wheelchair, and it felt as though their world was crashing down on them. To be sentenced to be wheelchair-bound for life at such a young age had taken a huge toll on the both of them – more for the man than for Jongin, really – and their relationship hasn't exactly been the same since.  
  
The last two months have been filled with nothing but anger, resentment, and a whole lot of temper tantrums, which finally resulted in a referral to the psychiatrist for depression, and a brand new set of drugs to keep the man's mood under control. There were times when he'd refuse to take these drugs, mouth clamped shut for hours on end with fury burning in his eyes, and not even Jongin can coax him into consuming them. It wasn't until a protracted counselling session which Jongin had been banned from attending that the man had relented at all, though Jongin can still see the ire in those brown eyes which once sparkled with passion.  
  
What hurts Jongin the most, though, is the fact that the man absolutely _refuses_ to speak to Jongin unless the necessity arises. Instead, he spends most of his time avoiding Jongin's eyes and pointedly ignoring Jongin's many questions about his well-being. It doesn't mean Jongin has given up trying, however, even if it feels as though he's speaking to a wall most of the time. He needs to persevere for _their_ sake, no matter how much he's hurting deep within.  
  
It's his fault, after all.  
  
The heart-stopping sound of tyres screeching against asphalt jolts Jongin back to his senses just then, and Jongin's eyes widen at the sight of a car being mere inches away from the man on crutches, realising that he had nearly gotten himself into yet another traffic accident. It doesn't take long for Jongin to run across the road, ignoring the weight in his hands, and he bows apologetically on behalf of the man when the driver of the car gets off and starts yelling at the man to watch where he was going. The man himself doesn't seem affected on the outside, merely hobbling away in muted silence even when he's still getting yelled at, and Jongin bows in apology once more before catching up to the man.  
  
Months of ambulatory training meant that the man could get into the car without requiring assistance, and he's already strapped in, eyes fixated on a random spot outside the window when Jongin is done depositing their meagre belongings in the boot and finally climbs into the driver seat. Their many years of acquaintance meant that Jongin could read the man like an open book, and Jongin can easily see through the calm front he's been putting up all this while.  
  
_He's terrified_ , Jongin realises, from the way the man's hands are trembling in his lap, knuckles white from being clenched much too firmly, and Jongin's heart breaks all over again.  
  
Jongin reaches for him. "Sehun–"  
  
"Let's just go." Sehun cuts him off bluntly, still not looking at Jongin. Jongin barely holds himself back from sighing aloud, and instead turns his attention back on the wheel, knowing he won't be able to get Sehun to listen to what he has to say. Sehun has retreated back into his own shell, and it's not very likely that he'll come out of it any time soon. Jongin turns the key in the ignition to get the engine running, and pulls out of the lot without another word.  
  
The trip back to their shared apartment is deathly silent.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Sehun continues to build up the walls around him as the days pass, even when he's back in the comforts of his own home. He never talks, never responds. It's almost as if he's found a brand new interest in staring blankly at the walls, spending most of his time slumped on the sofa, never moving unless hunger slips into his thoughts.  
  
Even then, Sehun rarely ever found the need to eat unless Jongin dragged him out of his seat and to the dining table. Sometimes, Jongin had to feed him by force, almost as though Sehun had regressed mentally and turned into an infant who didn't know how to feed himself after the incident. At least Sehun complies after several attempts on Jongin's part, numbly parting his lips and chewing slowly once his mouth has been filled with cooled porridge. Jongin doesn't really mind having to baby Sehun, even if it takes hours on end before Sehun would finish his food. At least he's eating instead of starving himself to death.  
  
It's difficult to watch, the way Sehun refuses to let anyone into his world, always guarded, always resentful. The happy side of him seems to have died on the day _the accident_ had left him debilitated and with a permanent limp, and Jongin sorely wonders if he'll be able to bring that Sehun back at all. Hope seems bleak from the way things are going, considering Sehun's continuous refusal to open up. It's been several months since the accident, yet they have not spoken a word about it yet, pretending as though ignoring the subject would mean that it had never happened at all.  
  
Sehun isn't into physical contact anymore, either, always curling into himself whenever Jongin tries to hug him, back turned towards Jongin in their shared queen-sized bed the first few nights when he'd just returned home. He'd even sleep as close to the edge of the bed as he possibly can, putting maximal distance between his body and Jongin's. Jongin would never fail to stare at Sehun's back night after night, teeth worrying on his bottom lip until he tasted metallic whenever he notices Sehun's trembling form beneath the pale moonlight. But he never could muster the courage to reach out for Sehun, in fear that he'd end up pushing Sehun even further away from him.  
  
In the end, Jongin opts to sleep on the sofa in the living room instead, knowing that he'll screw up his fragile relationship with Sehun one of these days if he continues to allow himself to stay in the same bed with Sehun at night.  
  
Sleep doesn't come easy, and Jongin hates that he can't do anything about it at all.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Sehun walks in quick steps down the near-empty streets of his neighbourhood, his thoughts much too loud for him to even hear the noise his shoes are making against the sidewalk, echoing in the still night air. He keeps his gaze skywards, trying in vain to keep the prickling hot tears at bay, but he knows he's fighting a losing battle.  
  
He can still hear the words in his head – words spoken in Jongin's deep timbre, shaped in the form of sharp blades that continually pierce into his heart. _I've been offered a place at The Juilliard School's B.F.A. programme!_ , Jongin had very excitedly told him just an hour prior, waving his acceptance letter in the air, eyes sparkling like the brilliant summer sun reflected on the surface of the Hangang River.  
  
Sehun _knew_ Jongin had auditioned for the programme – of course he knew. Sehun had accompanied a starry-eyed Jongin to New York City for the audition a few months ago, despite the raging war that's still tearing the world apart even now. It was a form of temporary escape for them both, a distraction from the inevitable future they'd have to face, once the war arrives at their home soil and they'll have to enlist to fight for the survival of their country. For now, the war was happening far away from them, and they could feign ignorance still. At least with something else to look forward to, Jongin and Sehun could pretend that everything was well.  
  
Until now.  
  
Taking up the offer would mean that Jongin has to move to New York and leave Sehun behind in Seoul. Sehun knows that much. They've been struggling to get by in that one short week they were there, and it's highly unlikely they'll both be able to support themselves in a foreign country with such expensive living costs. Besides, even if Sehun wanted to get a job there to supplement their income, he could barely even speak the language. It's highly unlikely anyone would want to hire someone who can't even understand what the customers are asking for.  
  
It's not as though Sehun isn't happy for Jongin. He _is_ , but the selfish side of Sehun is preventing him from being truly glad that Jongin had managed to land himself a spot in the school. He knows how much Jongin wants this. They had met and fallen in love through their mutual affection for dance, and that fact is unlikely to change any time soon. Nevertheless, Sehun has also heard of The Juilliard School's reputation, and how its best students would go on to achieve world fame upon graduating – he doesn't doubt that Jongin would become one of those students, but that's where his fears start taking form.  
  
He'd been abandoned once as a child, when his parents left him on his aunt's doorstep and disappeared from his life forever. Even now, Sehun doesn't know the reasons behind their actions, and he doesn't even remember his own mother's face.  
  
Sehun can't stomach the thought of being abandoned again by the man he loves with all his heart.  
  
Feeling the tears pricking at his eyes once again at the thought, Sehun furiously wipes them away with the back of his hand, trying his best to hold his feelings in. That's when he hears a familiar voice calling out for him from afar, and panic overwhelms him. He doesn't want to be found, at least not for tonight, so Sehun picks up his pace, hurrying along the sidewalk and trying to keep the sound of his footsteps to a bare minimum.  
  
"Sehun! Stop!" The voice draws even closer still, followed by frantic footsteps that can only be the result of someone running, and Sehun breaks into a dash, his hot breaths turning into condensation in the cool night air. He's underestimated Jongin's stamina, though, when the man manages to catch up to him in under a minute, grabbing hold of the back of Sehun's jacket to stop him from running further.  
  
Sehun refuses to give in, however, snarling and struggling to get out of Jongin's vice grip, and he decidedly filters out everything Jongin's trying to tell him over the noise of their scuffle and laboured breaths. He only manages to do so when he trips over his own feet – or Jongin's; he doesn't really know – causing Jongin to momentarily lose his hold on Sehun's jacket. Sehun takes the opportunity to dash across the street, but right at that moment, his surroundings is suddenly flooded with bright lights, followed by the jarring screech of tyres against asphalt and the sound of a blaring horn.  
  
Jongin's horror-stricken voice is the last thing Sehun hears, crystal clear in his ears, before the _impact hits–_  
  
Except the pain doesn't come.  
  
Sehun finds himself bolting upright in his bed the moment the car's front bumper connects with his right hip, panting hard out of fear, his bedclothes completely soaked to the skin. It's a recurrent nightmare, the night of his accident, and no matter what his therapist does, the memory seems to keep itself glued to Sehun's mind, never really leaving him alone. He swallows against the invisible lump stuck in his throat, wincing when he's met with a grating pain instead, and Sehun realises belatedly that he'd just screamed himself hoarse.  
  
Huh, he was supposed to have gotten over that phase by now.  
  
Frustrated with himself, Sehun runs a hand through his sweat-matted hair, trying hard to hold himself together. His body is still trembling from fear, and Sehun buries himself beneath the covers, curling into himself in a futile effort to stop himself from shaking.  
  
He freezes, however, when he hears the soft creak of someone opening the door, and the warm orange glow from the living room momentarily floods the darkness of his bedroom before the door is closed shut once again. Sehun hopes, _prays_ that Jongin was merely checking up on him from the doorway, because he doesn't think he'll be able to bring himself to talk to Jongin now, not when he's still shaken by the nightmare. He's bound to say something he doesn't necessarily mean, and Sehun dreads the mere thought of it.  
  
Unfortunately, Sehun should have known Jongin wouldn't leave him alone, especially after having heard Sehun screaming from the living room. The mattress of the queen-sized bed they were supposed to share dips in response to a brand new weight just as Sehun begins to relax, and Sehun's muscles freeze once more when a pair of strong, familiar arms wrap themselves around Sehun's waist, pulling him a little closer to Jongin as they lie on their sides.  
  
"I don't need you to say anything if you don't want to," Jongin breathes, voice quiet as he buries his nose in the crook of Sehun's neck. Sehun finds himself relaxing a little in Jongin's grip – an effect of muscle memory rather than true comfort – despite the raging thoughts in his head to get away from the warm body pressed up against him. He doesn't want to allow himself to get _too_ comfortable; he doesn't deserve this. "Just. Please. Let me stay with you for the night."  
  
Somehow, the words send a sharp stab of guilt to Sehun's heart. Sehun doesn't say a word though, merely letting himself drift into a fitful sleep with the sound of Jongin's soft, even breaths caressing his senses. He doesn't dream again that night.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
The worry grows into an overwhelming level for Jongin. Ever since Sehun had screamed himself awake from a nightmare, the atmosphere around their shared apartment becomes increasingly tense. It almost feels like he's walking on eggshells on a daily basis; Jongin's too careful with his words and actions around Sehun, too afraid to make a mistake and wind up pushing his boyfriend further away from him. Sehun's still as unresponsive as ever.  
  
Even if Sehun doesn't say it, Jongin _knows_ that the night of his accident has returned to haunt him again. He can see it in the way Sehun's fingers would dig into his right hip, fisting into the material of his track pants, where a long scar mar Sehun's pale skin, snaking up from mid-thigh and coiling over to his lower back, an aftermath of the surgeries required to correct whatever that was fractured in the accident. Sehun doesn't voice out his suffering, merely biting onto his lower lip and squeezing his eyes shut when the worst of the pain sets in, keeping his breath short and shallow until it tides over, thinking that Jongin won't notice.  
  
But Jongin _notices_ , and that's possibly the worst part of all, because he can't do anything to help Sehun. Sehun wouldn't let him; he'd flinched away from Jongin's touch the first time Jongin had tried to approach him, angrily snapping at Jongin and saying that he's fine when it's obvious he's not. Since then, Jongin can only chew on the insides of his cheek nervously whenever Sehun shows any signs of being in pain, the worry gnawing away at him and making his stomach churn in a sickening manner until Sehun finally relaxes. Even then, Jongin can't rest easy, when Sehun keeps on refusing the analgesics which are supposed to help him with his pain.  
  
The pain lasts for hours on end, sometimes, and it takes all of Jongin's willpower to not pull Sehun into his embrace whenever the younger man starts curling up in foetal position on the sofa, lips pale as he holds everything in.  
  
Yet Jongin falls deeper in love with Sehun still, his admiration for Sehun's iron will growing by the day. He's had his fair share of pain spikes the past, owing to the injuries he had sustained from far too many hours of dancing without knowing his limits, and Jongin honestly doesn't know how Sehun's bearing with it all without making a sound.  
  
He still wishes Sehun would let him in, regardless.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
It's during one of his baths that Jongin finally manages to corner him.  
  
Sehun isn't sure how long he's been sitting in the tub, completely lost in his own thoughts, but his skin has wrinkled and is peeling at the tips of his fingers when he returns to his senses. In fact, he doesn't even notice Jongin slipping into the bathroom until the door clicks shut, and the sound of wet footsteps padding across the tiles resonate in the cramped space. By the time Sehun realises that Jongin is there with him, dressed in a black tank top and a pair of worn shorts, Jongin's already barely an arm's length away from him, strong eyes boring into Sehun's soulless ones as he balances himself on the edge of the bathtub.  
  
And Sehun is momentarily paralysed, the fear of confrontation seizing him without warning. He's been avoiding this for a while now, being stuck in the same room with Jongin for more than a minute at any time when they're both awake, and he's been pretending not to notice the dejected look on Jongin's face whenever he walks away instead of talking to Jongin like his boyfriend probably wants him to.  
  
Jongin's not the only one getting cut up deep within, after all.  
  
It's been close to half a year since the accident which had left Sehun with a permanent limp and the occasional vanishing memory, but they haven't mentioned a word about it, neither having the courage to address the problems leading up to the incident – more on Sehun's part than Jongin's, Sehun surmises. But he's not going to admit to that. His pride wouldn't allow him, a defence mechanism that prevents him from admitting that the accident is entirely through no one's fault but _Sehun's own_.  
  
"No more running, Sehun," Jongin speaks up just then, voice hoarse. Sehun looks up reflexively, somewhat surprised that Jongin sounds so _broken_ , and he swallows hard when he's met with Jongin's bloodshot eyes and too-dark eyebags. It almost feels as though he's looking into his own eyes through the mirror; the usual spark in Jongin's gaze is gone, just like Sehun's own ones.  
  
Sehun realises with a start then, just how long it has been since he has properly met Jongin's gaze. He scrambles frantically for the memories of the way Jongin would always look at him with eyes full of _love_ , even as his muscles tense up in the water when Jongin reaches out for him.  
  
Jongin's fingers are warm against his bare skin. So, _so_ warm.  
  
Sehun shrugs Jongin off and averts his gaze, but not before catching the sadness that flashes across Jongin's handsome features. "I'm not running."  
  
"You say that, yet you're not even looking at me," Jongin laughs, mirthless, and he sounds so incredibly exhausted. "I'm _tired_ , Sehun. Tired of having you avoiding me whenever I try to reach out. You think I haven't noticed, but I _have_ , and I can't take much of this anymore."  
  
His words send a wave of panic crashing through Sehun's senses. The now-cold bath water sloshes around in the tub when Sehun turns abruptly to look at Jongin, some of it soaking through Jongin's clothes. Jongin doesn't seem to care much about it.  
  
"What do you mean? Are you–" Sehun chokes on his own conflicting emotions. He hates himself so very much. "–are you _leaving_ –?"  
  
Sehun doesn't know why, but when Jongin tells him _I don't know_ instead of giving a firm 'no' to his question, his heart clenches painfully in response, and he looks away yet again. Somehow, even while actively pushing Jongin away, Sehun still wants Jongin to _stay_ , because he's just so fucking selfish.  
  
"You should," Sehun mumbles, then amends himself when he realises he doesn't quite make sense. He _still_ doesn't look at Jongin, though, afraid of finding resolution in his boyfriend's eyes. "Leave, I mean. There's no point in you staying with someone who limps with every step like me."  
  
Jongin laughs; it's a broken sound. "Do you really think of me in such a light? That I'd leave you just because you have difficulties in walking?" He asks, and Sehun's heart clenches with guilt because yes, _yes_ he's had such thoughts before. Still does on the rare occasion now, even if he knows how much Jongin loves him.  
  
But Sehun also _knows_ that Jongin deserves so much more than him. Sehun doesn't think anyone who possess hideous scars like his could be seen as attractive in the eyes of others; such is the mindset of the world these days, even when the war is raging on and the concept of beauty shouldn't even be a primary concern any longer. He's heard of the vicious gossips surrounding them, on the rare days that Sehun's remotely in the mood to step out of their apartment. Everyone seems to be wondering what was going through Jongin's mind, for even wanting to be with Sehun who walks with a permanent limp. It's precisely why Sehun refuses to budge from his position on the sofa, even when he craves for the feeling of the warm sun caressing his skin sometimes. It's also why he keeps pushing Jongin away, even when Sehun truly wants Jongin to stay by his side.  
  
Sehun can't bring himself to tell Jongin all this, though, so he opts to keep silent, merely staring down at his intertwined fingers in the bathwater.  
  
Jongin doesn't answer to his silence with words, either. Instead, he's equally as quiet as Sehun is when he pulls himself to stand, then bending over to drain the water in the tub completely. The way the cool air suddenly caresses his wet skin has Sehun shivering, but it soon stops when fresh, warm water surrounds him moments later. Sehun's cheeks flush warm when Jongin strips off his own tank top and pants, leaving himself clad only in his boxers. And it's muscle memory at work when Sehun automatically scoots forward the moment Jongin taps him once, twice on his shoulder, a reminiscent of the times when they'd take a bath together. It's a tight fit in the tub, considering the fact that both their limbs are much too long, but they manage to settle in regardless, Jongin's warm body fitting against Sehun's snugly.  
  
Just as wordlessly, Jongin wets Sehun's hair, before reaching for the shampoo and lathering it in. A groan of content almost escapes Sehun's throat when Jongin's deft fingers dig into his scalp and massages gently, but Sehun catches himself just in the nick of time. Sehun's back is ramrod straight, not having the courage to lean in and savour Jongin's warmth even though he craves for it greatly, now that they're so close. He doesn't have the right, not after continuously pushing Jongin away for so long, so Sehun squeezes his eyes shut and tries to shove those cravings to the back of his mind.  
  
His eyes don't remain closed for long, though. They're shocked wide open when Jongin stops mid-motion and suddenly presses his forehead against Sehun's shoulder blade, sighing softly as he does so.  
  
"I've never thought of leaving you," comes Jongin's sincere confession – Sehun's heard enough to know that much – and Sehun's heart wrenches with guilt. How could he ever have thought of Jongin in such a light, from the very moment Jongin had excitedly announced to Sehun that he was accepted at The Juilliard?  
  
Jongin doesn't give Sehun to opportunity to dwell upon that thought for long, though, his deep timber piercing through Sehun's senses and wraps itself around Sehun's very core. "I wanted to bring you along to New York, no matter how reluctant you were. You may think I'm dense, but I _know_ what you were thinking back then, Sehun. I always have. I know you didn't want to be a burden, but that's the thing – _I don't care_ , Sehun. Remember what I said when I confessed to you? That I want to be there for you every step of the way? I meant it. I still mean it now."  
  
Sehun's fingers curl into the flesh of his palms at Jongin's words, his sharp nails sending a jolt of pain up his arms. Of course he does. Jongin has been there for such a great part of his life that Sehun doesn't know what he'd do if he ever lost him. But that's also where the insecurities start whispering in his ear, telling him that this bliss won't last for long.  
  
"I just hope you'd stop putting all the blame on yourself," Jongin says again, and this time, Sehun cranes his neck to look over his shoulder at Jongin – the first time he's done so in _months_ – but all he sees is the top of Jongin's damp hair. He does inhale sharply, however, when Jongin's strong arms wrap around his waist to pull Sehun in closer, and this time, Sehun doesn't resist. He no longer has the energy to do so, and he's just so, so tired of running away from the things he wants. "That accident was as much my fault as it was yours. If only I sat down and talked things through with you before I had gotten their reply, you wouldn't have thought that I'd abandon you to chase after my dreams. I'm afraid of losing you, Sehun. I was _terrified_ , when I watched you getting hit by that car on the night of your accident, only to be told by the doctors that you might not even regain consciousness or walk ever again. But I wasn't terrified for myself. I was terrified of losing you. I was terrified _for you_."  
  
It's the final thing required to completely tear down the walls Sehun has been building up all this while. It's almost impossible to stop the warm, salty tears from falling once it starts, but Sehun only cries harder and harder still when Jongin comforts him, telling him _it's okay_ amidst Sehun's never-ending repetition of _I'm sorry, Jongin; I'm so sorry_.  
  
Nightfall is almost upon them when they finally step out of the tub, skin all wrinkled and peeling, but their fingers are intertwined for the first time since Sehun's accident. Jongin firmly supports Sehun as he limps out of the bathroom, smile soft and gaze loving even though Sehun can still barely look at him out of guilt.  
  
Deep inside, though, Sehun wishes that things will truly be okay from now on.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Things are a little awkward between them at first – more on Sehun's part than on Jongin's, really – but they soon fall back into a comfortable routine in the apartment. It's almost as though the accident and the long months of silence had never happened at all; Sehun's permanent limp and the long scar running up his right thigh are the only reminders they have, of course, but Sehun tries hard not to let them bother him like they did before.  
  
It's not easy, but Jongin's always there for him, giving him the encouragement and warm smiles Sehun needs. Jongin's also saying _I love you_ a lot more often than he usually does, which makes Sehun flush red because he's not too used to the affection, but Sehun appreciates the words nonetheless. It's a bit of a challenge on Sehun's part to reciprocate the gesture, considering his shy nature, though Jongin has never uttered a single word of complaint. In fact, he showers Sehun with even more affection, as though attempting to make up for the both of them.  
  
Sehun is thankful for that, too.  
  
But then there are times when Sehun would be so crippled from the pain in his leg and back that he'd end up lying in bed, clutching his bad limb in agony and praying desperately for the worst of it to fade. It mostly happens when Jongin is away putting in hours at the dancing studio, teaching students to make ends meet, though Sehun has never had the heart to beg Jongin to come home immediately for him. He knows how tiresome it is for Jongin to travel back and forth from his studio, and one lesson less meant that they'd both have to get by with minimal funds in the bank – Jongin would rather starve himself in order to feed Sehun, and Sehun would really prefer not to see that happening. Jongin had collapsed from hunger once, and it had taken Jongin's friend Taemin to inform Sehun about it, _days_ after the incident, because Jongin doesn't want Sehun to worry about him.  
  
Sehun understands and doesn't blame Jongin for keeping it a secret from him, though, because Sehun would do the same if he were in Jongin's shoes. He'd rather wait for the pain to fade on its own, considering how he can't even get out of bed to grab the painkillers which are stored away in the kitchen, than to call Jongin up and make him worried. Sehun would invariably end up shaking and trembling and sweating bullets, but the pain always, _always_ goes away, even if it takes longer than usual sometimes.  
  
Today, though, the intensity of the pain doesn't wane in the slightest, and Sehun finds himself spending hours on end lying on the bed, clenching his jaw hard so that he can distract himself from the pain in his leg. It doesn't work at all, but it's not as though Sehun has any other options to work around with, considering how he had forgotten to stow his medications away in the bedside drawer instead of the kitchen _again_. He only realises how pallid his complexion is when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, lips almost paper white from his failing attempts at not screaming, and he hopes desperately that Jongin won't see him like this.  
  
His prayers fall on deaf ears, however, and his worst fear comes true when Jongin returns home earlier than usual and finds him curled up in foetal position on the bed, one hand clutching his right thigh in vain.  
  
"Sehun!" Jongin exclaims, the panic clear as daylight in his voice, almost a sickening reminiscent of the night Sehun had gotten involved in the live-changing accident. Jongin quickly runs to the kitchen when Sehun merely groans in agony, returning in under a minute with a glass of water and a pill of the strongest painkiller they have, before climbing into bed and carefully pulling Sehun to sit, trying his level best to not cause more pain. Sehun gulps down the medication as though his life depended on it, but still he's left clutching onto Jongin's shoulders for support, the painkiller's effect not kicking in as quickly as he needs it to.  
  
Jongin seems to be able to sense Sehun's lingering discomfort, though, immediately cupping Sehun's face with his warm hands and ensuring that Sehun's attention is on him. "Sehun, focus. Don't give in to the pain. Stay with me," he whispers urgently. Sehun swallows hard against the bile rising up the column of his throat, and does just as Jongin had instructed. It's not an easy feat, when the pain is making his vision swim, but still Sehun fights against the overwhelming urge to pass out.  
  
That's when Jongin suddenly pulls him forward, causing Sehun's arm to give way beneath his own weight. Before Sehun can even begin to wonder what was on Jongin's mind, Jongin's chapped lips are already pressed against his, patiently waiting for Sehun to reciprocate the action. It takes Sehun a while, what with the painkiller's effect beginning to spread through his bloodstream and dulling the pain a little, but Sehun soon realises that his lover is trying to distract him from the worst of it.  
  
So Sehun closes his eyes and relaxes his hold on Jongin's shoulders, nipping lightly on Jongin's bottom lip as a signal for him to proceed. He sighs into the kiss and parts his lips for Jongin to slide his tongue into Sehun's mouth, and soft sighs soon fill the room when Jongin sucks gently on Sehun's tongue, his hands sliding down the broad expanse of Sehun's back to rest on his aching waist. Jongin's kisses are like magic, and Sehun soon finds that the pain doesn't bother him all that much anymore, his mind completely focused on the way Jongin is rubbing soothing circles along the length of his scar, his senses filled with nothing but Jongin, Jongin, _Jongin_.  
  
"Better?" Jongin asks when they finally part for breath, his sweaty forehead pressed against Sehun's, and Sehun's completely mesmerised by the pinkish flush colouring Jongin's cheeks, and the way Jongin's plump, well-kissed lips are parted slightly with every intake of breath. Jongin is just so beautiful.  
  
Sehun flashes him a small smile when he remembers that Jongin's still waiting for his answer. "Yeah, much better," he says, voice a little raspy; then a mischievous thought crosses his mind. "You should do that more often. It's probably more effective than my meds."  
  
Jongin's momentarily stunned as he tries to absorb Sehun's words, but is soon barking out a humoured laugh.  
  
"I thought you'd never ask," he replies briefly, then pulls Sehun in once again.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
There are many times when Sehun would express his frustration for the long scar which runs up the side of his right thigh and ends at the base of his spine – less of the fact that he feels disfigured because of it, but rather because it's a cruel reminder of Sehun's foolishness and the pain he's put Jongin through all those months ago. His mood still oscillates a lot, even if he's trying hard to control his temper and not let the depression get the better of him. On the lowest of his days, he'd still lash out at Jongin, pushing him away and slamming the door in Jongin's face.  
  
There are also times where Sehun would yell at Jongin from the other side of the door, whenever Jongin knocks patiently and pleads for Sehun to let him into the room. The words that leave Sehun's lips are almost always hurtful, telling Jongin to leave him the fuck alone, that he shouldn't be associating himself with a cripple like Sehun when Jongin has a bright future ahead of him. But Jongin would always, always tell Sehun that it doesn't matter to him, because there's more to Sehun than just that. Even when Sehun tells him, "You don't understand; I'll never be good enough for you," Jongin would merely smile brightly and kiss Sehun until his low mood goes away.  
  
To a certain extent, Sehun really doesn't think he deserves Jongin at all. Jongin is such a fucking saint, his patience seemingly never able to be worn thin no matter how badly Sehun treats him sometimes, and it makes Sehun love him even more than he already does.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Even if it's been close to a year since the accident, Sehun doesn't feel any less self-conscious about his scar, but Jongin has his own way of making Sehun accept it as a part of himself just a little bit more with each passing day.  
  
Sehun tells him it's ugly, _he's_ ugly, but Jongin really doesn't care. Sehun is still as beautiful as the first time Jongin had met him, and he's frustrated that Sehun even thinks that he would mind these scars, despite Jongin telling him time and again that he doesn't. Nevertheless, it's a tireless affair, trying to make Sehun see that a person isn't defined by the scars on his body, but rather the beauty of his mind. Jongin would gladly do it for as long as he lives, until Sehun finally comes to accept it.  
  
Sometimes, when they're making love in bed, Jongin likes kissing along the length of Sehun's scar, watching Sehun squirm beneath him as he tries to get away from Jongin's grip. He's ticklish, and the sound Sehun makes is a funny mixture between a moan and a laugh.  
  
The smile on Sehun's otherwise flushed expression tells him that he doesn't really mind it, and Jongin files that image away in his mind.  
  
It's radiant, a sign that slowly but surely, Sehun's leaving his nightmares behind.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
The reality that their country is still at war hits them in the form of a letter that comes through the mail – for Sehun alone, and thankfully none for Jongin.  
  
Jongin had truthfully been afraid the moment he had opened their mailbox and found the lone envelope with the logo of the Ministry of Defence sitting within, but another closer look at its intended recipient had him feeling relieved. There's no way Sehun would be drafted for the army after all, considering the injuries he'd sustained from the accident, and having him as an active soldier would only slow the rest of the battalion down.  
  
"A desk job?" Sehun frowns the moment he reaches the end of the letter, leaning against Jongin's side with a small pout on his lips. "I'll probably die from boredom in less than a week."  
  
Jongin laughs and wraps an arm around Sehun's shoulders, pulling him in closer before pressing a kiss to his temple. "It's better than having to be on the frontlines. I'd never let you go."  
  
Sehun pretends to think about his comment for a long moment. "I don't know about that. I mean, it's illegal to abscond from the army when you're conscripted, an offence possibly punishable by death. I'm not about to break the law, even for you."  
  
As expected, Sehun's words had Jongin staring at him oddly, before Jongin attacks him with tickles. "Really now? Are you that ready to leave me and sacrifice yourself for the country?" He asks between laughs, knowing that he's overpowered Sehun who's now lying on the sofa beneath him. Sehun's wheezing away from his own laughter, barely even putting up any form of resistance – it's the happiest Jongin has seen him in a very long while, and he wishes this moment would never end. It doesn't even matter that they're talking about something as grave as the war, or their possible involvement in it in the near future.  
  
Jongin tries not to think about the very possible event where _he's_ the one receiving the letter from the government. The eight o'clock news is still running in the background, the newscaster reporting about the escalating war, and the increasing amount of fellow South Koreans being called up to serve the military. That's when his message tone rings loud and clear, and the pit of Jongin's stomach drops when he's done reading it.  
  
_I've been conscripted. Reporting in next week._ The content of the message is as grim as it gets, and it takes Jongin a very long while before the impact of the words finally sink in. Suddenly he doesn't feel all that happy anymore, not when his best friend Taemin is being shipped to his death.  
  
Sehun stares at him all confused for a moment, before he leans in to read the message on the screen of Jongin's phone. The smile too disappears from his face when he's done, and he sinks into his seat, staring blankly ahead. It's surreal, finding out that someone so close to you is being sent off into the battlefield and you can't do anything to stop it. Above all, however, Sehun's worried about Jongin, because he's been friends with Taemin for more than a decade now. It can't be easy for him to digest this new piece of information, when the war has more casualties than survivors returning home.  
  
The silence lasts until Sehun breaks it – which is a first, since Jongin's the one who'd always fill the spaces in between with some sound – with a sigh. "Do you want to see him before he goes?"  
  
Jongin merely nods numbly, because what else is there for him to say, really?  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
It turns out that a bulk of Sehun's new desk job with the military consists of him typing up letters addressed to the family members of the fallen soldiers. They're half-hearted expressions of condolences and promises of compensation on the government's part, as far as Sehun is concerned, because the government shouldn't have taken these people away from their loved ones and sent them to their deaths in the first place. War is man made, after all, and the heads of the nations around the world could have settled their differences through a series of negotiations before coming up with a compromise.  
  
That is of course the best case scenario he can think of, probably bordering on naivete, even, but who is Sehun to say anything about it? People are always driven by their greed for power and money anyway, and wouldn't hesitate at all in employing the most drastic manner possible to achieve their goals. He knows that much about the world and how ugly it can get.  
  
Having a paying job may be a good thing – at least Sehun can reduce Jongin's burden and help with the bills at home – but it doesn't make it any less depressing. The pile of letters only grow thicker, the names on the list provided for Sehun growing longer and exponentially faster with each passing day, and a sense of doom looms upon him. It bodes ill for their nation's military power, and Sehun really, really hopes that there won't be a day when Jongin would be called up to fight for the country.  
  
They don't talk much about Sehun's new job at home, either. Jongin probably knows that Sehun would like to keep his mind off such a depressing affair as much as possible, especially when Sehun's still fighting his inner demons, and Sehun appreciates that.  
  
At least, Sehun can keep the news of Taemin's death a secret from Jongin a little longer, because he knows that Jongin will be _devastated_ when he learns about it. The last thing Sehun wants to witness is his ever-strong boyfriend sobbing brokenly.  
  
The letter which is supposed to be addressed to Taemin's family – listed as _uncontactable_ by the Ministry, it seems – sits alone on Sehun's desk by the end of each day, spots of dried tears staining the once-pristine paper and smearing some of the ink.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
There's nothing more therapeutic for Jongin than being able to dance. It doesn't even matter that people all around him keep telling Jongin it's impossible for someone to derive enjoyment out of their career, because Jongin knows very well it's not true. It's the one thing Jongin does best, considering how he's been immersed in various forms of dance ever since he was a child. It only seemed natural for him to start up a dance studio of his own, teaching the art form he loves best to others.  
  
Jongin doesn't tell Sehun this, but he had been in a depressed mood in the few months Sehun had spent cooped up in their shared apartment. He had to leave the dance studio in Taemin's hands back then, because he can't possibly bring himself to leave Sehun at home alone, when Sehun's in such a vulnerable and fragile state. Jongin would never forgive himself if anything happened to Sehun, just because Jongin himself wanted to lose himself in dance for several hours.  
  
He's happy Sehun's willing to take up the job at the Ministry of Defence, though. At least it gives Sehun a sense of purpose, something which the other man had lost after his debilitating accident. Jongin can't bear mentioning to Sehun about joining him in managing the dance studio, when Sehun had first shown signs of getting better from his gloomy mental state. He _knows_ dancing meant as much to Sehun as it does to Jongin, and having a bad leg automatically ruined any hope that Sehun could return to the dance floor once again.  
  
Jongin believed that Sehun wouldn't be upset, so as long as he wasn't reminded of it, and he hoped that by taking up the desk job with the military, it could keep his mind preoccupied for the most part of the day.  
  
It's precisely why Jongin freezes mid-twirl, sending him tripping on his own feet and tumbling to the parquet flooring, when he looks up and sees Sehun's face reflected in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors of the dance studio one fine evening. All this while, Jongin had deliberately arranged his classes in a way which enables him to pick Sehun up from his workplace, instead of having Sehun travel all the way down town to where the studio is. He's succeeded in preventing Sehun from coming here – until today, that is.  
  
"Sehun?" Jongin croaks over the loud music blasting through the speakers, a little dazed as he stares at his boyfriend who's standing across the room, his weight supported by crutches which have become a part of his daily image. He quickly stops the music with a press of the remote controller, and the sudden silence makes his ears ring. "What are you doing here? Aren't you only supposed to be out of work in a couple of hours?"  
  
Sehun looks sheepish as he looks around the studio, setting his crutches aside before limping his way to where Jongin remains seated on the polished floor. Jongin immediately runs off to grab a chair before Sehun can even reach him.  
  
"I– my boss gave me the rest of the day off. Said I was working too hard–" Sehun tells him, and even though Sehun's trying to remain nonchalant, Jongin _knows_ it's because his leg has been bothering him again. He can see it in the tenseness of Sehun's jaw, the way his fingers are curled into the fabric of his black slacks, but Jongin doesn't call his boyfriend out on it. "–and I miss this place, so I thought I'd pay you a visit and head home with you after. Aren't you supposed to be teaching a class right now?"  
  
Jongin hesitates; cancelling classes is a norm these days, when the children are mourning over their dead parents lost to the war, but he doesn't tell Sehun this. Doesn't want Sehun to worry about the finances of the studio. It's a little hard on him, especially with Taemin deployed to the battlefield and virtually no other instructors around to help. "I shifted the classes around," he says instead, after a quick deliberation. "The kids have to put in extra hours after school, so their lessons here unfortunately have to be shortened."  
  
Sehun nods, and questions no more. But the light in his eyes turn melancholic when Jongin sees him next, a little glossed over as Sehun takes in the sights of the studio. "I miss this. So much. I want so badly to dance again." His voice cracks a little around its edges, hitting Jongin square in the chest.  
  
What Jongin wants to say is _you shouldn't have come_. What he says instead is, "I know."  
  
It takes him all but five seconds to pull Sehun into his arms, just in time for Sehun to start bawling his eyes out. There's nothing else he can possibly say in response, nothing else he can do apart from physically holding Sehun together.  
  
Jongin's heart breaks all over again at the sight, breaks _with_ Sehun, and he makes a mental promise to create a choreography where they could dance to together in the future, if only to fulfil Sehun's silent wish of returning to the dance floor once again.  
  
  
  
(He keeps that promise several weeks later, creating a contemporary dance for them both, with Sehun seated on a chair while Jongin dances around him. They record the final, polished product and uploads the clip onto the Internet, of course, and it garners the praise of many.  
  
No one comments about Sehun's disability.  
  
The smile on Sehun's face that evening is the brightest Jongin has ever seen since the day Sehun had regained consciousness from his accident, and he vows to keep it there for as long as he lives.)  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
The dreaded day comes a few weeks later, amidst grim news of the escalation of the war.  
  
Jongin crumples the paper in his fist, then dumps it in the trash on his way to the elevator.  
  
He doesn't enter their shared apartment until the violent trembling of his hands have faded into nothing than a mere tremor.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
"Marry me."  
  
At first, Sehun thinks he's misheard Jongin, his head snapping up in surprise just as he's about to scoop a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. Dinner is a private but extravagant affair tonight – it's a drastic deviation from their usual menu of takeout food and burgers, something which Jongin had painstakingly put together from scratch before Sehun even made it home from work. Jongin doesn't usually do such things, unless there's a special occasion, and Sehun hadn't known what the occasion was in the beginning.  
  
He does, now.  
  
Jongin has set his cutlery down on the plate, gaze serious as he looks at Sehun. There isn't the slightest hint of a joke in his words or in his mannerisms when Jongin repeats himself – surer, louder. "Marry me, Sehun. When the war is over and the country is more peaceful, marry me."  
  
Sehun's hand automatically shifts to his right hip and digs into the fabric of his track pants, the hesitancy overwhelming him like violent waves in a storm. "But Jongin, I–"  
  
"I've told you countless times: I don't care about your scar, or your limp," Jongin cuts him off before Sehun can say more, and his gaze has never been more intense or determined. It takes Sehun's breath away. "I love _you_ for who you are. Always have, always will. Physical attributes don't matter to me. Don't you believe me?"  
  
"I–" Sehun starts again, but he stops himself and smiles softly. Jongin has always kept his promises to Sehun, and he has always worked hard at showing Sehun how much he cares. It's not as though Sehun doubts Jongin's words – he doesn't think he'll ever doubt Jongin's sincerity. It's just that Sehun doesn't have enough faith in himself, doesn't think he's special enough for Jongin to keep sticking around. Now that Jongin has proposed to him, though, Sehun is willing to take a leap of faith and trust in himself a little more.  
  
"Okay, Jongin," he says in the end, beaming at his boyfriend who's seated across the table from him, and Sehun tries his hardest to keep the tears at bay. It's embarrassing to cry, he thinks, but his heart is bursting at its seams from happiness. "I will marry you, when this is all over."  
  
Their promise is sealed in the form of a simple silver band from Jongin to Sehun. "It's not much," Jongin says as he slips the ring onto Sehun's middle finger, "but I hope you still like it."  
  
"I _love_ it. It doesn't matter, as long as it's from you," Sehun tells him, smiling when the weight of the engagement band presses into his flesh. That's when he remembers he doesn't have anything prepared for the occasion, rendering him flustered, but then an idea comes to him. He removes the necklace he's been wearing for _years_ – it's his family's keepsake, given to him by his mother before she had disappeared from his life – and gives it to Jongin. "I'd like you to have this. Think of it as my commitment to you."  
  
Jongin stares up at Sehun, surprised for a brief moment, before a bright smile takes its place on Jongin's handsome face. He knows how much the necklace means to Sehun, who has never parted with it ever since he's started wearing it. Sehun appreciates that Jongin doesn't reject his gift, and his heart feels whole when he sees the necklace dangling around Jongin's neck, even though Jongin doesn't even like wearing accessories.  
  
It's more than enough.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
That night, they take their own sweet time in exploring each other's bodies all over again.  
  
Jongin's kisses are unhurried, lips moving slow and languid against Sehun's slightly chapped ones as he holds Sehun close, hands resting on Sehun's hips. Jongin tastes like peppermint, like love, like _home_ on Sehun's tongue, and it's everything he's ever wanted, everything he'll ever need. A shudder runs down the length of Sehun's spine when Jongin's cool fingers sneak beneath his shirt and slides up the smooth expanse of his skin, and he offers no resistance when Jongin tries to tug his clothes off.  
  
Once upon a time, Sehun would have felt incredibly self-conscious to lay exposed on the bed, even if he's alone with Jongin. He's come a long way from that, though – thanks to Jongin's constant reassurance that Sehun's scars don't bother him, because it's a part of Sehun. His fingers dig into Jongin's scalp, pleasure shooting through his senses as Jongin kisses a trail up his bare thigh, tracing along the length of Sehun's scar and onto his hip. The tips of Jongin's digits skim fleetingly across skin, leaving gooseflesh in their wake, and a soft moan escapes Sehun's throat as he arches into Jongin's lips and touch.  
  
Each kiss Jongin leaves is a silent proclamation of _I love you_ s on Sehun's skin, and Sehun has never felt more cherished. All his life, he's been craving for a love that belongs to him and only him, and though he's had his fair share of boyfriends in the past, none of them even came close to how important Jongin is to Sehun.  
  
Later that night, as they lay on their sides, with Jongin's cock thrusting slowly into Sehun and his calloused hand wrapped around Sehun's length, more feelings of love are vocalised and pressed into the juncture of Sehun's neck, hot breaths and gentle touches caressing him through his climax. Sehun's not good with words, but he makes up for it with the way he calls out Jongin's name, the way he grabs for Jongin's free hand to lace their fingers together, never letting go until the end.  
  
"I love you," Jongin says again, when they've already cleaned up and are cuddling on the bed, Sehun's back to Jongin's broad chest and Jongin's arms wrapped snugly around Sehun's waist. "I love you so much."  
  
Sehun, too far gone from exhaustion by then, mumbles an unintelligible _me too_ in response, a satisfied smile plastered on his face as he lets himself be dragged into the murky depths of sleep. He thinks he can really get used to the feeling of Jongin's new necklace pressed against his back and having the weight of the silver band on his middle finger from this moment on.  
  
Not once does Sehun feel suspicious about the sudden explosion of affection from Jongin.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Sleep doesn't come easy – doesn't come _at all_ – and already he has to pry himself out of the warm sheets, away from the one person he can call home, when his alarm buzzes just before dawn. The temptation to stay in is strong, but he knows duty is waiting for him, and he'd be persecuted if he ever dares run away from it.  
  
Jongin quickly shuts his alarm off before it can wake the sleeping man beside him, and he carefully extracts his arm away from Sehun's weight. It tingles from the lack of circulation for a long while, but Jongin learns to ignore that too as he hurriedly throws several pieces of his belongings into a duffel bag – newly bought and stored away from Sehun's line of sight, in case he interrogates Jongin about it.  
  
He remembers the letter he'd discarded almost as soon as he was done reading it, now probably lying somewhere in a dump site, fading ink rendering it unintelligible after soaking up rainwater. He knows Sehun will find out about it eventually, but his lover doesn't have to know about that. For now.  
  
His morning shower and simple grooming flies by almost too quickly, and by the time the night sky begins to pale in the presence of the rising sun, he's already at the doorstep of their room, meagre belongings in his hand. Sehun's still fast asleep, his expression the calmest Jongin has seen on him in a long while, his naked body barely covered by the comforter wrapped around his waist.  
  
Jongin's heart clenches again at the sight of the silver band on the middle finger of Sehun's left hand, a new addition from the night before. He wants to spend the rest of his life with Sehun – he really does. It feels only natural, having Sehun by his side, ever since Sehun had entered his life three years ago. But the reality that their country is at war isn't lost on him, and neither is his duty to the nation to protect it, being able-bodied and all. He can only be thankful that it's him and not Sehun who'd been conscripted, because Jongin doesn't think he'll be able to stomach the thought of Sehun being thrown into the thick of a battle, especially with the atrocities he's heard about the war. The mere imagery of someone else laying their hands on Sehun's bare skin revolts him, much less someone who's considered an enemy to their country. People sometimes get a little too desperate in times of war, and will get their hands on the prettiest thing they can find.  
  
His grip on the strap of his bag tightens when the morning sun begins to paint the sky in pastel hues of pink and orange, casting their room in a warm, dim glow. Sehun is beautiful like this – at peace and free of worries in his sleep. Jongin's tempted to kiss him awake, but it won't do for him to startle Sehun; it'll only make his leaving more difficult than it already is. Instead, Jongin commits the memory to mind, and takes slow but firm steps away from their bedroom towards the main door, hand clutching the necklace around his neck until its irregular edges cut into flesh, but the pain is strangely numbed, manifesting only as a dull pressure against his palm.  
  
Perhaps it just doesn't even come anywhere close to the pain in Jongin's heart, born from his reluctance to leave Sehun – Sehun, who's still healing from his wounds, visible and otherwise; Sehun, who's afraid of being alone; Sehun, who means the entire world and more to him – behind. He doesn't think anything else could hurt him more.  
  
Just as the first rays of warm sunlight begin to fill their living space, Jongin steels himself to leave, even if his heart is screaming for him to stay. He has a duty – one which he knows Sehun will not fault him for, because they are but tiny specks of inconsequential existence to the greater good of the nation, as shitty as it might sound – and it awaits him in the form of a bus that will take him to his new ( _temporary_ , his mind firmly supplements) home for an indefinite amount of time.  
  
A quiet _I'm sorry, Sehun, I love you_ is whispered into the still air of the apartment, before the door clicks shut and a set of footsteps march away from it.  
  
Jongin leaves his heart behind in Sehun's hands, his body a mere vessel to keep him going forward so that he can find his way back home after the war ends.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Ideally, after a night of passionate sex and having a new label of being someone's fiancé tacked onto him, Sehun should have woken up cocooned by feelings of bliss, a wide, contented smile plastered on his face.  
  
It doesn't happen.  
  
What _does_ happen, though, is Sehun bolting upright in bed the moment the bright morning sun hits his eyelids, panic seizing his being. He immediately turns to the left, the remnants of the nightmare which had shaken him awake clinging onto his consciousness, and his stomach drops when he finds the space next to him empty, the sheets made as though no one had slept there at all.  
  
Sehun knows better though; Jongin's warmth still lingers even though he's no longer lying by Sehun's side, the ghost of his touches skimming across Sehun's bare skin with every beat of his heart. The mere thought of it has him shuddering in the cold morning air. Just last night, Jongin had marked Sehun like he's never done before, varying shades of purple dusting his skin, and Sehun rightfully blushes when he catches his own reflection in the mirror. The embarrassment is gone in a flash, though, when he remembers it's a _weekend_ , and Jongin doesn't have anywhere else to be apart from sleeping in bed with Sehun and letting Sehun kiss him awake. It's barely even nine in the morning, which makes Sehun sicker to the stomach still, because Jongin would _never_ get up this early for anything at all.  
  
But Sehun wants to give Jongin the benefit of a doubt, if the events in the last two days are anything to go by. He wants to believe Jongin had just stepped out of the apartment to get breakfast for them both, so he picks up his phone on the bedside table and dials the set of numbers he's already more than familiar with.  
  
It goes directly into Jongin's voice mail inbox.  
  
The sickening feeling in his gut amplifies, because Jongin would _never_ leave himself uncontactable to Sehun, knowing that Sehun would ring him up at any given time begging for him to _please, come home soon as you can, I can't stand the pain_.  
  
It takes Sehun all but five seconds to hop out of bed and wash up, then he's out of the house, limping all the way to the nearest bus stand with his phone clutched tightly in his hand, a single location in mind as he tries to push all his worries out of his head, desperately hoping that he's just being excessively paranoid.  
  
The trip to the Defence Ministry's office in town takes much too long for Sehun's liking. He's a ball of nervous energy on the bus, his good leg shuffling restlessly and occasionally earning dirty looks from the few passengers closest to him because of the noise he's making, but Sehun truly doesn't care. He has more important things to worry about, and he almost leaps off the bus the moment his office building comes into sight, before the vehicle even comes to a complete stop – he _would_ have jumped off the steps and sprinted all the way to his cubicle, if he wasn't already suffering from a permanent limp and constant pain in his right hip.  
  
The office is deathly silent when Sehun steps in, and he hobbles towards his work station as quickly as he can, powering on the computer and tapping his fingers impatiently against the tabletop as he waits. It feels like forever before the application he needs loads completely – Sehun thanks the forces above for having mercy on him once the program boots. His fingers dance deftly across the keyboard once he finds the category he needs, typing in Jongin's ID number from memory.  
  
Sehun hesitates right before tapping the 'enter' button, his heart beating wildly in his chest from fear, and he prays fervently that his paranoia remains as just that: paranoia. He checks his phone once again, hoping futilely for Jongin's message to come, but when it doesn't, Sehun swallows hard and pushes the button with a shaking finger.  
  
This time, the program loads too fast for comfort, Sehun's search results pinging back almost immediately, before he's even readied himself to face the truth.  
  
It takes one look at the words _**Kim Jongin – conscripted, March 14th**_ for Sehun to dash to the toilet, puking his guts out when the wave of nausea hits him hard.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Where there was once enjoyment during his compulsory national service several years ago, there is only dread clinging onto Jongin's being right now. The barracks are made of the same grey cement walls, furnished with the same uncomfortable metal frames for beds, but Jongin can't find it in himself to feel adventurous this time. His mind is filled with Sehun, Sehun, _Sehun_ , worried about how his fiancé is coping with his sudden disappearance. Jongin doesn't doubt Sehun would have discovered that Jongin has been requested to enlist for the war by now – he's smart enough to figure things out on his own. He's merely afraid Sehun wouldn't take his lack of announcement very kindly.  
  
Above all, though, he's worried about Sehun's well-being, and how he'd cope being alone for the next few months.  
  
(Jongin tries his hardest not to let his mind wander off to the event that he'll be killed in action, leaving Sehun alone for the rest of his life.)  
  
It definitely isn't easy, putting up a brave front as he interacts with his fellow soldiers during their intensive training phase. A simple conversation or two reveals that many of them are as pessimistic as Jongin feels deep within, though they're gravely lacking in Jongin's determination to get through the war alive. _We have families waiting for us at home,_ some of them tell him, _but what are the odds of us rookies surviving the war, when we're supposed to fight against veterans?_  
  
Jongin would always flash a tight-lipped smile at them, and would excuse himself before the negativity gets to him. He doesn't need this right now, not when Sehun's waiting for him back in Seoul. He had promised to provide Sehun with a family, and he _will not_ die before he fulfils that promise, not when Sehun trusts Jongin with all his heart.  
  
There's one man by the name of Byun Baekhyun whom Jongin allows himself to get close to, however. Something about him reminds Jongin of Sehun – perhaps it's in the way he'd close himself to the world outside, guarding his inner thoughts with such rigour that Jongin wants to be the one to coax him into opening up. Living with so much pent-up negativity when their days are numbered isn't exactly healthy, and he doesn't want Baekhyun to suffer as Sehun had in the past, when he had refused to let anyone into his world after the accident.  
  
Besides, selfish as the thought may be, Jongin needed to tell someone about Sehun and the way Jongin regrets leaving him behind without telling him anything, albeit indirectly. Baekhyun's always ready to listen, even if he always makes a face at Jongin whenever Jongin starts his tales, and for that Jongin is extremely grateful. He thinks he'd probably lose his mind before he even gets thrown into the thick of war, if he keeps everything to himself.  
  
What Jongin doesn't tell Baekhyun, though, is how he'd always cry himself to sleep, worrying about Sehun more and more with each passing day.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
_**From: Hun ♡  
March 14, 1015H**  
  
Ur a fucking asshole, u know that? How could u fucking leave without telling me???  
  
  
  
**From: Hun ♡  
March 14, 1020H**  
  
Answer me!!!!!!  
  
  
  
**From: Hun ♡  
March 14, 1130H**  
  
It fucking hurts. I don't have my meds.  
  
  
  
**From: Hun ♡  
March 14, 1200H**  
  
Jongin, please, help—I don't even know if it's my leg that's killing me, or if it's something else.  
  
  
  
**From: Hun ♡  
March 15, 0300H**  
  
I fucking miss u, asshole. Pls, call me.  
  
  
  
**From: Hun ♡  
March 15, 0600H**  
  
Can't sleep without u here. How dare u.  
  
  
  
**From: Hun ♡  
March 15, 2000H**  
  
Jongin, I can't  
  
  
  
**From: Hun ♡  
March 15, 2300H**  
  
I hate u  
  
  
  
**From: Hun ♡  
March 16, 0400H**  
  
I fucking hate u  
  
  
  
**From: Hun ♡  
March 16, 0530H**  
  
Don't ever talk to me again  
  
  
  
**From: Hun ♡  
March 16, 0732H**  
  
I love u  
  
  
  
**From: Hun ♡  
March 16, 0734H**  
  
I love u so fucking much it hurts  
  
  
  
**From: Hun ♡  
March 16, 0750H**  
  
I love u so fucking much, Jongin. I swear I will mutilate ur corpse if u ever dare die on me without letting me punch ur stupid face in for leaving without telling me. Don't fucking die.  
  
  
  
**From: Hun ♡  
March 16, 0844H**  
You promised_  
  
  
  
Jongin's phone almost explodes from a barrage of text messages and notifications for at least 50 missed calls when he switches it on, the first weekend he's away at the army camp. It's a small luxury provided to them, thought necessary by the higher-ups to boost their morale, as if it's any help at all. They only have a week of intensive training left before they're getting deployed onto the battlefield, but the exhaustion is already bone-deep by then, the desperation to live filling the air and reflected in the eyes of many.  
  
Sehun's messages are provide him with the strength to carry on, though Jongin almost bawls his eyes out when he reads the messages where Sehun tells Jongin he loves him, and his heart wrenches at the ones where Sehun's begging Jongin to help with the pain that continues to plague him. Sehun's never been good with using words to express how he feels, much less tell Jongin whenever he's in pain, so reading all of that in addition to hearing Sehun crying on voice mail makes Jongin feel as though he's been punched in the gut several times over.  
  
He doesn't give in to the temptation of dialling Sehun's number, though, because he knows it won't alleviate his longing to be by Sehun's side in the least. Instead, Jongin powers off his phone after reading the last message, and hands the device back to their camp commander, expression stoic and seemingly unaffected.  
  
Baekhyun, being the only one who knows about Jongin's life back in Seoul, is there to stare at him incredulously when Jongin turns around to leave. "Are you seriously going to give your phone up, just like that? Don't you want to call him?"  
  
Jongin's smile is wan. "Better than giving him false hope. He'll live."  
  
What he really means is _I don't want my own heart to cave_.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Jongin falls into a routine of writing letters whenever his heart starts aching to see Sehun, pretending as though Sehun is right there with him. A whole hour before his bedtime is dedicated to penning down his thoughts and his experiences on paper, no matter how exhausted he is after the day's training, because he knows that his time is running out. It'd be close to impossible for him to indulge in his whims when he's on the battlefield, and already Jongin hates the mere thought of it.  
  
He meticulously pens the date and time he finishes these letters too, wanting to ensure they'll be read in chronological order someday. But Jongin doesn't mail the letters out – Baekhyun frowned at him when he found out – because he wants to hand these letters to Sehun in person when the war ends, to show Sehun that he is always on Jongin's mind no matter what.  
  
He prays for the day to come sooner.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Sehun moves around in an almost-robotic manner ever since Jongin had left without saying goodbye, feeling numbed and hollow without his lover by his side. He doesn't stop worrying about Jongin at the back of his mind, even though it's clear Jongin doesn't want to talk to him – he knows Jongin has read his text messages, but the lack of even the simplest _don't worry, I'm fine_ speaks volumes about Jongin's intentions.  
  
It doesn't mean it doesn't _hurt_ , however, and the sting of betrayal still lingers. Then again, Sehun has become such an expert in ignoring the pain – both in his chest and over his right hip – that they've faded into nothing more than a dull throb which hits him every now and then.  
  
His work is the only thing that keeps him alive every single day, no matter how depressing it gets, seeing the list of the deceased grow longer and longer still. The letter which was supposed to be addressed to Taemin's family still sits on Sehun's desk, though he gets a cork board and pins it up several weeks later, afraid he'd lose it among the pile of paperwork on his desk. He still feels guilty for not telling Jongin about Taemin's death, but Sehun has a hunch Jongin might've guessed as much by now.  
  
Where there was once sympathy and sadness filling him in the past, there is only a never ending stretch of numbness overwhelming him these days. How can he possibly feel for the others, when his heart is constantly worrying for Jongin, and his thoughts are filled with nothing but Jongin himself? Still, Sehun trudges on, forcing himself to get to the end of the list for the day even when his eyes are aching and watering from the strain he's put them through for the last couple of hours.  
  
That's the only way for Sehun to find out about Jongin's fate on the battlefield after all, and he can only rest easy when he types in the final name and address in his template, only to be reassured that Jongin gets to live yet another day.  
  
It's morbid, but what else can Sehun possibly do?  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Being on the battlefield, wielding real weapons loaded with genuine ammunition which can end the life of another, is a fucking scary experience, and nothing can possibly prepare them for the numbing realisation that _they've killed_. At first, it's almost always followed by a sickening feeling in his gut, almost as though he's been physically kicked in the stomach, but Jongin gradually learns how to tune that out, even if he knows that he's losing a part of his humanity by doing so.  
  
He firmly reminds himself they're in a time of war, though, and sympathy for the enemy will only get him killed in the end. It's precisely what Jongin wants to avoid at all costs, dying on the battlefield, because there's someone waiting for him at home.  
  
Then again, Jongin later learns that there's one thing more terrifying than having the blood of another staining his hands – _actually_ staring death in its face.  
  
This happens during the South's troops' second clash against the Norths, while Jongin is still mentally devastated at the thought that their battalion had lost both Chanyeol and Baekhyun to the war. He's extremely furious with the Northern soldiers for killing his friends, and had used his anger as a driving force to bulldoze through a group of Norths attacking him and his comrades who were with him. Felling them made him feel more courageous and more confident, because they were technically the underdogs here, having significantly less experience than the Northern soldiers when it comes to fighting a war.  
  
A split moment's inattention led to Jongin being bodily tackled to the sandy ground though, soil damp with blood smearing across his fighting gear and his exposed skin. The man who had thrown himself at Jongin is heavy as hell, keeping Jongin pinned onto the ground with barely any room for him to struggle and fight back. His breath is stale in the humid summer air as it fans across Jongin's face, teeth yellow in the sunlight and grin feral as he stares down at Jongin, dagger held tightly in his grip. Jongin nearly gags at the stench.  
  
"Not so valiant now, are you?" The Northern soldier taunts, pressing the back of his arm against Jongin's neck until he's partially impeding Jongin's airway.  
  
Still, Jongin refuses to let his weakness show, keeping his breath shallow as he snarls back at the enemy. "Why? Can't take the fact that we managed to kill a bunch of your buddies when we're so green?" The words taste like rusted metal on his tongue, sharp and bitter, and it takes all of Jongin's willpower to not throw up. He doesn't really mean what he has said – a life is still a life, no matter whose side they're standing on – and he still thinks it's wrong to kill, even if their nations are at war.  
  
The Northern soldier spits at him. "You just got lucky, you little shit, but your luck has run out."  
  
Everything else happens within the short span of a couple of seconds. The first thing Jongin notices is the way the Northern soldier raises his dominant arm, and the second that catches his attention is the dangerous glint of metal beneath the sunlight. He's heard of the kind of torture the Northern soldiers are capable of dishing out, and when the man drives his dagger towards Jongin's face, Jongin doesn't have an inch of doubt that he's trying to gouge his eyeballs out, snatching away Jongin's sight before he does Jongin's life.  
  
But Jongin is determined to not end up dead under the knife of the enemy, because he _needs_ to get home alive to apologise to Sehun for leaving unannounced. The adrenaline kicks in just in time for Jongin to twist his body sharply to his right, causing the tip of the dagger to narrowly miss its mark. It catches on the flesh of Jongin's left cheek, though, leaving a long gash down the side of his face. Nevertheless, his will to survive is keeping most of the pain at bay, and Jongin bodily heaves the heavier man off him – an easy task when he's caught off guard, and the man tumbles to the soil, his grip on the dagger loosening.  
  
Jongin sees it as a window of opportunity, seeing that the dagger is in closer proximity to him than its original owner, and before the Northern soldier can even recover from his stumble, Jongin's already on his feet, driving the weapon into the side of the man's neck.  
  
It's a horrid sight, watching the man splutter and drown in his own blood, but Jongin can't seem to turn away, slumped onto the ground in a daze as the life drains out of the enemy soldier. He only remembers to keep breathing when the man finally stills, eyes wide but soulless. Jongin's heart is promptly filled with the sickening sense of guilt which comes with every kill, though he's mercifully distracted from the thought when a sharp stab of pain comes from the direction of his face. He'd nearly forgotten about the gaping wound on his cheek.  
  
But the reality that his face will be permanently disfigured by the presence of a scar when his wound heals is lost of him. Jongin falls onto his back, ignoring the blood that has seeped into the already-damp soil beneath him, laughing hysterically at the blue skies above him – for being glad that he can live on for yet another day, or for the gradual loss of his sanity after each murder, he doesn't really know.  
  
What would Sehun think of him, if he ever sees Jongin like this?  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Sometimes, Sehun wakes up in the dead of the night, his bedclothes drenched in cold sweat from the nightmare he's just had. It's almost never about his accident anymore these days, but the vivid imageries of his love being shot to death by the Northern soldiers, sometimes tortured with all ways imaginable before he dies in complete agony.  
  
It's not as though Sehun can help himself from having such morbid dreams, but nothing he does seems to help alleviate it. He trusts that Jongin won't go down so easily, of course – he's always been a lot more resilient than Sehun has ever been, a trait Sehun both admires and envies – but his heart still continues to worry despite everything.  
  
Sometimes, he remains restless no matter how much he tells himself that it's all in the state of his mind. Sehun would lie in bed staring blankly at the ceiling, watching as the pale moonlight turns into the bright orange of sunrise then golden yellow of the morning, a million and one thoughts flooding his head. He remains high-strung still until he gets to his workstation, quickly skimming his list for the newest casualties of the horrid war when he logs on, and the nervous edge only abates slightly when Jongin's name is again blessedly absent.  
  
It's never truly gone though, his anxiety. Sehun doesn't doubt it'll always remain until Jongin is back by his side, safe and whole.  
  
He's not very religious, but Sehun finds himself praying a lot more than he usually does, even if it's for selfish reasons. He hopes his desperation for Jongin's presence will be heard.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Jongin knows it's an impossible wish, wanting a lull in their warring days – it's only been several weeks at best since they've been thrown into the thick of the battle ill-prepared, but it simultaneously feels too short and too long a time – but he wishes for it all the same.  
  
It's sickening, having to put bullet after bullet in flesh, stabbing one man after the other with his dagger when his rifle is useless in short ranges, and Jongin is honestly tired of fighting, tired of having his hands soaked with blood all the time. It doesn't even matter if he manages to bathe himself (a luxury) after these battles, because the blood stains never seem to fade from his skin, almost as though they've been permanently inked there. Chanyeol tells him his mind is playing tricks on him; Jongin knows, but the knowledge doesn't make him feel any better.  
  
He'd end up puking his guts out whenever he has some time to himself to think, nevertheless. Jongin _loathes_ to admit, but letting his mind go numb whenever he has a weapon at hand is the only way he knows of to prevent himself from thinking too much. To stop his mind from reminding himself that these men he's killing – they have wives, children, a family, _someone_ at all back at home, waiting to be reunited with them.  
  
_Just like Jongin_.  
  
It's always these thoughts that bring up the nausea, and the urgent need to empty the contents of his stomach in the bushes. The taste of bile no longer becomes strange to him, even if Jongin doesn't like it at all. At least the way the column of his throat burns in the aftermath affords him enough of a distraction from the thoughts in his head.  
  
He's glad to find both Baekhyun and Chanyeol alive—and significantly closer to each other—after the first skirmish where they were separated, and listening to Baekhyun's stories distracts him from his own nightmares. He can only manage a small, wry smile when Baekhyun curses colourfully at the Norths, when he finds out the origins of the scar on Jongin's face, and Jongin even manages to crack a joke, saying that he'd look cool with an eyepatch. Baekhyun had shoved at him, and they laughed, the sound alien to his ears after weeks of continuous fighting.  
  
That lull in their battle doesn't last for very long, and they're soon thrust in the thick of the battle again and again. Jongin's separated from Baekhyun and Chanyeol once more, having been reassigned to smaller teams, but they promise to meet again soon—both alive, both breathing.  
  
It's these thoughts that continuously push Jongin forward, not wanting to break his promise to Sehun and Baekhyun, and he fights even harder to keep himself alive.  
  
The feeling of surviving at the end of it makes his heart swell with guilt-tinged happiness.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
The final battle comes all too soon, even if they've heard rumours of the Americans coming to their aid.  
  
Of course, Jongin isn't at all surprised to learn that the Norths are still trying to push forward one last time, to bring down as many soldiers of the South as they probably can. And, seeing that they're all splintered close to the border, it would take some time before help could reach them.  
  
Jongin is in the midst of talking to Baekhyun when the siren blares through the camp's speakers, and instantly they're on their feet, Jongin's heart in his throat. There's a brand new sense of anxiety seeping into his consciousness, grossly dissimilar to the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach before the first time he was deployed onto the battlefield, and Jongin can't put a finger on what's causing him to feel this way. He clutches the necklace around his neck, only very slightly comforted by the way its edges are cutting into his flesh.  
  
"We need to go," Baekhyun tells him, reluctant, but he's already picking his weapon up from the floor of the tent and adjusting his jacket.  
  
Jongin hesitates a moment longer – Baekhyun watching him questioningly all the while – before he unclasps the necklace around his neck, and hands it to Baekhyun. Baekhyun scrunches his face in confusion, to which Jongin only says, "In case I don't make it out alive."  
  
He can see the way the light in Baekhyun's eyes changes from confusion to horror, clearly disbelieving that Jongin would say something like this. He knows what's on the tip of Baekhyun's tongue, and Jongin turns away, not wanting to meet his gaze.  
  
"Please," Jongin says softly, hoping it would sway Baekhyun's heart. "Get this to Sehun for me, if I don't survive. He'll know it's from me. Tell him I'm sorry."  
  
Baekhyun looks at him for a moment longer, before he reluctantly nods and slips the necklace into a compartment in his backpack. "You'll make it, Jongin. I'll hold on to this for you, but you're going to be the one to return it to Sehun and let him kick your ass personally, you got that?"  
  
A laugh bubbles out of his throats despite everything, and Jongin exchanges a determined look with Baekhyun before walking out of the tent to join the rest of the troops.  
  
He pretends not to see the way Chanyeol swoops down to plant a quick kiss on Baekhyun's lips, pretends not to acknowledge the jealousy that blossoms in his chest.  
  
He thinks about nothing but Sehun, and wishes he could pen another letter right now.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
It feels as though his heart is about to leap out of his chest at any given time. It's pounding hard against his ribs, and Jongin can't hear anything apart from the continuous gushing of blood in his ears, as well as the sound of rifles going off everywhere around him.  
  
He brings down quite a few Norths – men who are beyond exhausted and battered by now – with his gun, putting bullets through their chests or right in their forehead, but Jongin doesn't ever linger long enough for the usual guilt to settle in. Instead, he runs around the open field, killing any of the enemy troops in sight, all while being careful not to step on recently upturned earth. The Norths are desperate, he knows, when they're on the brink of losing the war, and Jongin's battalion has been briefed about them planting land mines in the open field where the final skirmish is currently taking place at. One wrong step, and he could easily lose his life.  
  
Jongin's miraculously still alive even with the fierce battle going on, though unfortunately the same cannot be said about many of his comrades. His already-small battalion has been further halved in size, mostly lost to the deadly land mines, desperately buried in small distances apart. Jongin himself has several cuts on his skin, bleeding actively in some, all courtesy of the shrapnels from these mines. He tries his best not to let the pain distract him, which is rather effective owing to the adrenaline rush, but he does tie a piece of rag over the wound that's bleeding out the most, hoping that it'll stop oozing soon.  
  
He somewhat feels proud and glad when he sees Baekhyun across the field, aggressively slamming the butt of his gun into the faces of their enemy, all while trying to reload his rifle in between. He's never seen Baekhyun fight on the battlefield with his own eyes, but he thinks Baekhyun is beautiful like this, lithely slipping between the enemy troops and bringing them down as he does so. Jongin makes a mental note to relay his praise to Baekhyun in person when this is all over.  
  
That's when a flurry of activity to his left catches his attention, a mere few metres away, and Jongin turns just in time to see Chanyeol forcing himself to stand still, one leg stretched out awkwardly behind him. And the pit of Jongin's stomach _drops_ ; he knows what it means, even without having to see the upturned earth beneath the sole of Chanyeol's foot. Land mines those days were activated by pressure, and would explode the moment the weight upon it has been lifted off. Chanyeol would either have to remain frozen in his current position and let the Northern soldiers impale him to death with their bayonet, or to lift his foot off the mine and let himself be blasted into a number of unrecognisable pieces. Neither is an attractive option, as far as Jongin's concerned.  
  
But here's the thing: Baekhyun is on the battlefield with them, fighting with all his might just several feet away. If Jongin were in Baekhyun's shoes, he wouldn't want to witness the death of his lover with his very own eyes. He's been in such a situation, once, when Sehun had been knocked over by the car just a little more than a year ago, and it was _excruciating_ on all accounts.  
  
Jongin's feet are already in motion before he can fully process his own thoughts, heading towards Chanyeol in quick steps when he spots several of the North soldiers heading towards his friend, murderous intent burning in their eyes. Vaguely, he can hear Sehun's accusatory tone ringing in his ears, sending a scathing _you're so fucking selfless that it's bordering on stupid; why don't you put yourself before the rest?!_ at his direction, and Jongin kind of wants to laugh.  
  
There are already tears pricking at his eyes, the silent _sorry_ s falling from his lips like a fervent mantra, as though the wind would help him convey his words to the one he wants to hear them the most, as Jongin raises his rifle and shoots at the group of Northern soldiers coming at them. It doesn't take long for Chanyeol to realise Jongin's true intentions, though, when Jongin doesn't stop even when their enemies are already lying lifelessly on the ground, blood dyeing the soil in sickening shades of crimson.  
  
"No, Jongin! Stay back! Don't come any closer!" Chanyeol yells over the din of gunfire, the rare moment of panic clear as daylights in his large eyes.  
  
But Jongin's no longer listening. Instead, he's focusing on his thoughts and his thoughts alone, reminiscing the happier times he's had with Sehun, and the image of the engagement ring sitting on Sehun's middle finger. The tears are falling faster now, for the promise he can't fulfil, for the goodbyes he wasn't able to bring himself to say, for the inevitable cries of agony when Sehun finds out Jongin is _gone_. Still, he doesn't stop apologising to Sehun, picking up his momentum as he rushes towards Chanyeol, abandoning his rifle on the ground so that it wouldn't contribute to the number of projectiles flying about.  
  
Jongin merely smiles sadly at Chanyeol when their gazes meet, before he crashes into Chanyeol and pushes the man out of the way with all his might.  
  
The last thing Jongin hears is the sound of a loud explosion, and the combined cries of Chanyeol and Baekhyun, both calling out for Jongin.  
  
The pain doesn't even register.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
_Forgive me, please.  
  
No matter what happens, just– please–  
Forgive me.  
  
It's okay even if you hate me for doing this.  
Remember that I love you more than anything in this world.  
That will never change._  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Sehun first learns of Jongin's fate through his stupid work computer.  
  
It's two days after the war has officially ended, aid having arrived just in the nick of time to stop the North's rampage, and Sehun had thought he could breathe easy. The list of those who were killed in action was still being updated, but they'd been blissfully absent of familiar names. Until that fateful day.  
  
Sehun remembers being absolutely stunned, considering he's not even midway through the final list of the war casualties. He stares long and hard at the name on his screen, his cursor blinking mockingly at the last word, though his mind doesn't really compute. The characters are burned into his vision, but Sehun refused to believe what he was seeing. _Jongin's alive_ , he tries to convince himself, _he just hasn't found the opportunity to contact me yet_ , and Sehun had easily carried on with his work, diligently going through the rest of the list as he's supposed to. The thought that Jongin was no longer _here_ doesn't cross his mind, and he doesn't return to type in that one name he had conveniently skipped.  
  
In retrospect, it's probably denial doing all the talking, but days soon turn into weeks, and Sehun's heart grows restless when Jongin _still_ doesn't contact him, fourteen days after the war has ended. It's during a lull at work that Sehun picks up the phone, and dials the number of every single military hospital he can think of, frantically asking for the existence of a patient named Kim Jongin.  
  
The dread in the pit of his stomach only grows stronger with each negative response, and the panic escalates when Sehun nears the end of the list of numbers he has at hand.  
  
He literally jumps out of his seat one day, when a colleague relays the information that someone's waiting for him at the Seoul General Hospital. He immediately throws in his request to take the rest of the day off, and doesn't even wait for approval before he's bounding out the doors of his office building, hailing a taxi instead of taking the bus like he usually does. Sehun doesn't think he has the patience for a long ride around town; his heart is already pounding hard against his ribcage as it stands.  
  
Nevertheless, the person who's waiting for him at the hospital _isn't_ Jongin. Instead, he finds two people seated in the lobby – one having lost his right leg, and the other, his left hand. Instinctively but cautiously, Sehun hobbles over to where they are, and introduces himself.  
  
The smile on the shorter man is sincere but sad – _I'm Baekhyun_ , he says, _Jongin's closest friend in the army, and he asked me to hand this to you._  
  
An invisible lump immediately lodges itself in Sehun's throat when he looks down at Baekhyun's hand and finds his necklace – _Jongin's_ necklace which Sehun had given to him as an engagement gift – sitting innocently in Baekhyun's palm. With trembling hands, Sehun takes the necklace from Baekhyun and holds tightly onto it. If he concentrates just a little more, he thinks he can feel Jongin's lingering warmth on the cold metal chain.  
  
"What– where is he?" Sehun stutters moments later, though he's no longer in control of the words that spill through his lips, his mind slowly going numb at the implication behind this meeting. He doesn't want to believe it, even if the truth is staring him in the face, even if he knows Jongin wouldn't willingly part with such an important memento for as long as he lives.  
  
Baekhyun shakes his head solemnly, eyes downcast at the question. "I'm sorry, Sehun."  
  
And Sehun's smile is frozen on his lips, the tips of his fingers tingling from the shock. He doesn't cry, though, merely swallowing against the lump in his throat and tightening his grip around the necklace in his hand. The way its edges are cutting into his flesh offers a much needed distraction, and Sehun numbly bows in thanks at Baekhyun, not trusting himself to say another word.  
  
Before Sehun could get very far away, however, Baekhyun's companion quickly caught up with him – which surprises Sehun, considering his disability – and hands him a small box. "Jongin's letters," the man – _Chanyeol_ explains, "he would always write to you, but he never sent them out."  
  
The information weighs upon Sehun even more, and he can feel the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes as he tucks the box under his arm. With yet another quick bow, Sehun hastily makes his leave for home; he doesn't think he can keep himself together in public any longer.  
  
Throughout his ride, he never once loosened his grip on either object, but he doesn't look at them either. The constricting sensation in his chest builds up the closer he gets to home, the knowledge that he'll be returning _alone_ without Jongin by his side – ever – slowly suffocating him, and it takes all of Sehun's willpower to not break down at the back of the taxi, drawing on the relaxation therapy he'd learnt when he was battling with the worst of his depression a year ago.  
  
Sehun barely makes it back to his empty apartment on shaky legs, on the verge of hyperventilating as he slams the door shut behind him. That's when he finally sinks to his knees, dropping the necklace and leaving Jongin's unsent letters scattered across the hallway. The tears he's been holding back for the last hour floods past the temporary dam Sehun had built up, and Sehun _wails_ in complete agony, calling out for Jongin over and over again until his voice is all hoarse.  
  
It hurts that there will no longer be anyone to respond to the name ever again. It fucking _hurts_.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
For days, _weeks_ after Sehun learns of Jongin's departure, he's suspended between the state of walking around like a zombie and crying until he could cry no more.  
  
(No, he wouldn't admit that Jongin is _dead_ ; his lover's presence is still very much alive in this apartment. Sehun can feel it.)  
  
The cycle repeats itself whenever Sehun sees the necklace on his bedside table. It reminds him of all the times he's pushed Jongin away and wanted Jongin to leave him after the accident, the times he's hurt Jongin – and how, despite everything, Jongin still stood steadfastly by his side, supporting Sehun through it all, never once losing his patience with Sehun. It also reminds him of the promise Jongin had made when he proposed to Sehun, to provide Sehun with the family he always wanted. A promise which will never be fulfilled now, no matter how hard Sehun prays for it.  
  
He's half-tempted to throw the necklace away and never lay his eyes upon it again because it _hurts_ , but he can never bring himself to carry out the action. It holds too many memories of _them_ , memories which Sehun doesn't ever want to lose. It doesn't even matter that he's continually being cut up inside.  
  
There are times when the thought of cutting his life short has crossed him, too. These are the days when Sehun's mood is at its lowest, when he can't even find the willpower to climb out of bed, or even to take his medications to kill the pain in his hip. He doesn't think the pain even compares to the agonising hollowness in his heart any longer. But whenever he's about to reach for the kitchen knife, he'd see Jongin's disapproving face before him, pleading with him not to do it.  
  
Sehun would always give in to his illusions. It's funny, how Jongin continues to save Sehun's life even when he's gone, though in a way, perhaps that's why Sehun has always thought of Jongin as his guardian angel.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
It takes Sehun more than a month after his meeting with Baekhyun and Chanyeol to even step out of his apartment. It takes even longer for him to bring himself to visit Jongin's final resting place, and he positively breaks down when he has to face the cruel reality that Jongin's _gone_.  
  
Sometimes, in his spare time, Sehun wanders around the city. He goes to places he and Jongin used to frequent together, even though some of these places have been reduced to nothing more than burnt patches of grass or buildings left in ruin because of the war. He'd never fail to see the ghost of Jongin there with him, smiling at Sehun and encouraging him along to explore the area, as though Jongin had never left.  
  
Sehun would always walk until he could no longer move from the pain in his hip, desperately grasping at the traces of Jongin he could find around him.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Jongin's box of letters remain stashed beneath the bed, dust collecting layer by layer until brown turns to grey. Three months on, and Sehun still hasn't read any of it. He doesn't think he'll ever be ready to unseal them.  
  
While the box is out of sight, though, it's never really out of Sehun's mind.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Sometimes, Sehun would dial Jongin's number, just to hear Jongin's voice through the automated voicemail message. He'd then mutter soft, broken _I love you_ s after the tone, words he never had the courage to express to Jongin when his lover – his _husband_ – was still alive, only to dissolve into tears of despair, his chest filled with nothing but painful regret.  
  
He does it whenever his longing for Jongin grows too strong to be suppressed, though eventually, he loses the only outlet he has to remember Jongin's deep voice by, when Jongin's voice mailbox is filled to the brim with unchecked messages. With no one to clear it out, new messages could no longer get in.  
  
It happens on one rainy night when Sehun recognises that familiar ache in his chest, a pain that climbs in intensity with each passing second. He falls apart when the operator speaks up instead of Jongin's usual warm voice, and Sehun curls up into a ball on the bed.  
  
"Please come back," he whispers fervently into the phone, clutching tightly onto the device until his knuckles turn white, even as the automated message repeats itself and tells him his voice message cannot be recorded. Outside, the rain is pounding against his bedroom window, as though mocking him and his loneliness. He feels as though he's being ripped apart from within, and all that's left is an aching, gaping hole where his heart had once been, too impossibly large for anything else to fill it up once again.  
  
Sehun continues pressing the phone against his ear, hard enough for it to leave a dark red mark against his tear-stained cheek. "Please, come back, Jongin. _Please_. You didn't even let me say goodbye–"  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Sehun lives, and dies, and lives again, his body but a soulless vessel to keep him anchored to reality.  
  
The cycle never seems to end.  
  
He's exhausted.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  


_Live._

_Promise me you'll live your life to the fullest.  
Be happy, even when I'm not there with you.  
It doesn't matter if you won't forgive me for leaving without saying a word.  
God, you know I only want you to be happy._

_So please, live. For me. For yourself._

_I love you. I always will._

  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
Sehun finds his strength to live his life to the fullest, eventually, but his thoughts are always filled with Jongin, Jongin, _Jongin_. He doesn't move out of their shared apartment either, even if it hurts coming home to an empty space without anyone to greet him. He resolves the issue by adopting a puppy – it reminds him of Monggu, one of Jongin's dogs, and it eases the loneliness.  
  
Just a little, but it's enough.  
  
Months, _years_ after Jongin's death, he finally extracts the box of letters from beneath his bed. He doesn't read it in their bedroom, though, opting instead to carry the box all the way to the cemetery, seating himself by Jongin's grave so that he could respond to his husband. He's only slightly amused to find that Jongin had taken to mind to pen the date on each piece of paper. It makes things easier for Sehun; he loathes to read them out of correct order.  
  
Even after so many years, the sight of Jongin's handwriting brings tears to his eyes. The heartache still lingers, albeit having been reduced to nothing more than a dull throb which Sehun can easily ignore. He coughs, ignores the soreness in his muscles and the tightness in his chest, and continues to read.  
  
Sehun is acutely aware of how shallow his own breaths are; his body has been steadily deteriorating over the years, his kidney having failed several months ago due to his chronic analgesic dependence, and it makes him weaker by the day. His doctor had discussed the treatment options with him, but Sehun wasn't having any of it. He wants his illness to take its natural course; at least he's happier that way, living without regrets.  
  
A wry smile finds its way to Sehun's dry lips as he leans against Jongin's headstone, fingers curled around the chain dangling from his neck. It holds their promise charms, Jongin's ring on Sehun's necklace, the way they should be – _together_.  
  
"You're an idiot, do you know that?" Sehun huffs as he arrives at the last of Jongin's letters, his voice hoarse, pulse slowing. The ink has smeared, owing to the tears Sehun has shed. It doesn't matter, though. He's read the piece multiple times, to the extent that he can recite its contents without looking at it. It's of Jongin apologising for leaving, his proclamation of love. Sehun can feel Jongin's sincerity in his heart, even now.  
  
"I can never possibly hate you," he continues, words barely above a quiet whisper to the wind. The spring breeze is caressing his skin, and Sehun has never felt more comfortable. "I love you. I always have, I always will."  
  
And he closes his eyes, smiling at the ghost of Jongin's touch on his cheek. It's warm.  
  
  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
(Jongin's there, staring down at him when Sehun opens his eyes next. It feels as though he's been asleep for a long while, and he realises they're both back to being twenty five when he blinks and clears the haze in his head. Young, carefree, and very much in love.  
  
"Wake up, sleepyhead," Jongin chides playfully, extending his hand for Sehun to take. His smile still never fails to make Sehun's heart skip a beat. "I've been waiting for you since forever." Jongin's hand is warm in his, and very real indeed.  
  
Sehun allows Jongin to pull him to stand. He makes a face at Jongin for the heck of it. "You're so dramatic. Knock it off."  
  
Then he smiles, bright and sincere for the first time in a very long while, and presses his lips against Jongin's, swallowing Jongin's tinkling laughter. It's warm and familiar and everything Sehun has ever wished for.  
  
This isn't a dream. He's finally home where he truly belongs – with Jongin by his side.)


End file.
